Home
by Mme Curie
Summary: Connor returns to Davenport after his empty victory over Charles Lee. Injured and badly in need of medical care, he is ushered to the Davenport Manor and aided by the members of the closeknit community he built. As he recovers from his devastating injury, he grapples with his broken past, painful present and uncertain future. Rated M: for blood, injuries and surgery, language
1. Chapter 1

The horse plods slowly along the hard packed road, meandering from time to time towards the edge to nibble on some grass. His ears twitch as the sounds of the forest reach them. The rider on his back had long since ceased to command him and lies almost motionless over his back except for his slow, labored breathing. The scree of a hawk high overhead rouses the rider and he moves, clutching at the horse's mane briefly with a groan. With considerable effort, the rider sits up, clutching weakly at his right side as an almost black trail of blood down his white and blue coat receives a new burst of redness from the movement. The fresh blood trickles down the rider's leg, only to drip onto the ground with a steady tic tic tic, as if counting down the seconds of his life remaining to him. With a weakly mustered voice and an even weaker kick, the rider rasps out his last command.

"Hep, hep!" At the first movement of the horse as he lurches into a fast walk, the rider groans and clenches his teeth. Almost there. He is almost there… and then he can rest. Before the first house on the fringes of the town of Davenport comes into sight, Connor has collapsed on his horse once again.

"Dr. White! Dr. White! Diana!" Lance shouts as he leads the horse up to the Doctor's residence. No one answers so he continues at a jog, looping the reins of the horse that carries his friend tighter over his hand. Closer to the Davenport Manor, he encounters Myriam as she is walking back with a brace of rabbits slung over her shoulder.

"Myriam! Fetch the Doctor! Find anyone! Tell them I'm bringing Connor to the manor. I pray we aren't too late."

"What's happened to him?" she cries, lowering the rabbits from her shoulder as she runs toward the horse and Connor's prone and lifeless figure on it.

"My god, did someone shoot him?"

"Myriam, hurry, I'll need help getting him inside." Myriam runs off toward the nearest house as Lance carries on toward the manor.

At the door to the manor Lance works at unhooking Connor's feet from his stirrups and removing the weapons from his belt that could snag on the saddle, dropping them onto the ground unceremoniously. Before long, Big Dave comes running up, out of breath and sweating.

"Myriam said Connor's been hurt, shot! Let me help you get him inside." Together, the two men drag Connor from the horse. They breathe a sigh of relief in unison when Connor groans and fights them for a moment.

"Connor, you're home. We're gonna get you fixed up, alright? You're gonna be fine. The Doctor's on his way right now." The men each take an arm and there is nothing else to do but carry him into the house with is feet dragging behind him. They get him onto his back on Achilles' old bed and both of them stand there looking at him.

"Jaysus, he's losing a lot of blood." Lance mutters. The silence stretches on until at last the sound of running footsteps brings them Doctor White with Diana hard on his heels. Not a moment later come Prudence and Warren.

Dr. White crouches down beside Connor and he looks at the gaping hole in Connor's side. It has been left untreated for at least a day, maybe longer.

"Connor! Can you hear me?" There is no change in Connor's breathing; it remains slow and shallow.

"Connor!" Diana touches the filthy skin of Connor's cheek.

"He's burnin up, doctor."

"Diana, my bag." Diana had anticipated his need and she holds the bag out to the Doctor immediately. He sets it between Connor's knees and starts to unbutton his bloodstained coat.

Help me get his things off. Lance and Dave stand back to allow the Doctor and Diana to do their work. Prudence calls from the hallway.

"What can I do to help?"

"Get some pots of water boiling on the stove. And find me as many rags as you can. This is going to be a messy business. Warren, Connor was no lover of spirits, but see if you can't find a secret stash Achilles might have kept. Bring me the strongest stuff you can find." Prudence and Warren hurry into the kitchen and Diana unties the sash from Connor's waist, dragging it out from under him. The Doctor and Dave roll Connor onto his right side so she can pull the sleeve of Connor's jacket off his arm.

"I had no idea he was this heavy!" Dave complains.

"That's because he's all muscle. Unlike some of us…" The doctor attempts to inject some levity to the situation but Diana harrumphs at him as she pulls on Connor's elbow to get his wrist and hand out of the sleeve of his white shirt. She rolls up Connor's jacket and shirt lengthwise and shoves them as far under his right side as she can.

"Alright, lay him back and roll him up to me." Lance joins her on her side of the bed to help her hold Connor while the doctor and Dave take his jacket and shirt the rest of the way off. With Connor up on his left side and the wound exposed, the doctor examines it closer. A tear deep in Connor's flesh at the side of his abdomen implies impalement, but whatever had been in him had neither pierced the other side of him nor remained in him. The doctor moves his hand close to the wound and then stops.

"If anyone of you has a weak stomach, you'd best leave now." No one moves so the doctor shrugs and delves his finger into Connor's wound to assess the injury. Connor's knees bend up and he moves his right arm as if to swing. Diana catches it and pins it to the bed as he starts to groan and wince.

"Jaysus!" Lance covers his mouth with his hand but stays beside Diana to keep Connor from falling onto the bed. Dave leaves the room quickly with most of his dignity intact. The doctor digs in his bag and pulls out a pair of forceps. He slides them into the wound beside his finger, eliciting another twitch and moan from Connor. With a steady hand, he slowly pulls out a long splinter of wood from the wound, unleashing a large gush of blood that spills over both the front and back of Connor's abdomen.

"Prudence! Prudence, come quickly with rags if you have them, please!" He calls over his shoulder. She runs into the room and freezes with a cry for only a moment before she is at the Doctor's side, taking the splinter in a rag from him and handing him a second one to staunch the bleeding.

"Are there more in there, doctor?" Diana asks with trepidation.

"Aye. I'll have to get them all or his wound will fester and it will kill him. We need to open his side."

"I was worried about that the minute you found that." She nods toward the splinter Prudence holds in the rag. The wood is saturated with Connor's blood and has left red streaks on the rag. The doctor leans in close and sniffs carefully at the wound.

"It didn't pierce his intestines. He is lucky that he is so muscular. For a smaller man, this type of injury would be a death sentence. Since we have to open, let's just let him rest until the water boils." They lay Connor back onto the bed and Prudence and Diana straighten his legs out and remove his boots and leggings, leaving him in just his pants. Connor groans once and then is still. Lance passes Myriam, Corrine and Ellen as they rush in the front door. Ellen clutches her hands to her chest as she quietly kneels beside the bed. Connor's right hand dangles from the side of it and she gently lifts it and places it on the mattress. Blackened, crusted blood flakes off his knuckles and from between his fingers. His hands, wrists, neck and face are filthy with blood and grime and fresh trickles of blood run in lines across his stomach, pool in his navel and stain the bed linens. Ellen stares at what came off on her fingers and then over at the man who singlehandedly changed the lives of every person in the room and the entire town. His face is turned toward the left and the hair is gone from the sides of his head. Three smudged lines of paint mark the cheek that is visible, making him look like a true Indian warrior. Gone is his prevailing innocent appearance that hinted at boyish embarrassment or awkward shyness. It is a man who lies before them all, marked by anger and bearing the aged appearance of tribulation, pain and suffering. What would ever push a quiet person like Connor to alter his appearance in such a drastic way intentionally? They had all witnessed his anger in defense of the town but he had never before done such a thing as this… and come back nearly dead because of whatever had transpired.

"Ellen, I'm glad you're here. I may need another set of skilled hands for stitching him up. Do you think you can help?"

"Of course." Ellen nods and gets up to join Prudence in the kitchen. She picks up the bottle of whiskey and looks over at Prudence questioningly.

"It's for Connor. To keep him asleep, I assume." Ellen nods and places the bottle down once more. If only alcohol sedated all men, she and Maria would never have gone through what they did with her ex husband. Hopefully Connor isn't an angry, violent drunk like Quincent.

Everyone speaks in hushed whispers as news of Connor's grave circumstances spreads. Newcomers to the home are updated on his condition and much speculation as to how he came to be so terribly injured arise. At last the time comes for Dr. White to operate. Godfrey and Terry take over for Lance and Dave in the room that has now become a surgical ward.

"I've seen my share of severed limbs, blood and the like working at a mill. I can take a bit of blood in my sight." Terry says.

"First, let's get as much of that whiskey in him as we can." Diana touches her husband's shoulder and looks up at him with worry in her eyes. Terry nods and hauls up on Connor's shoulders to get him into a sitting position.

"Come on, you giant ox, up you go!" Connor moans and slumps against Terry. Diana hesitates but then takes a handful of Connor's disheveled crest of hair and tips his head up. His mouth hangs open and she pours a little of the whiskey into it. It runs right back out, over his chin and onto Terry's shoulder.

"He isn't conscious enough to drink it." Diana laments. Dr. White folds his arms over his chest and considers the situation. He makes eye contact with Diana and then reaches to Connor's side to touch the gaping wound. He presses against it until Connor stirs. Diana tries again with the bottle and Connor swallows the alcohol down but suddenly begins to struggle. He roughly pushes Diana away with his left hand and Godfrey grabs his arm. Diana administers more of the whiskey and Connor seems to come awake at last. His eyes open blearily and he coughs, groaning afterwards as he attempts to shove away those who restrain him. Terry is hard pressed to hold him and he shouts toward the doorway.

"A little help! Now!" Warren, Dave and Lance come running in. Warren jumps onto the bed and sits against on Connor's back with his feet braced on the headboard to keep him sitting up and Dave and Lance each take a leg. Diana gets a tighter grip on Connor's hair and coaxes more of the alcohol into him.

"Come on, Connor, just drink it. That's it. Drink it. A little more. No! Hold still! That's it. That's it. Let us help you. That's it, Connor." In between swallows, Connor either slips into partial unconsciousness or fights against the men. Though his eyes open from time to time, it's obvious he is unaware of where he is or who is talking to him. His combative bouts, though sporadic, are surprisingly powerful. When nearly a third of the contents of the bottle are in him, he begins to fight less and less. Dr. White taps Diana's arm.

"I think that's enough, Diana." The men lay Connor back onto the bed and the Doctor tucks some cloths under his body below the wound. Prudence brings in a pot of the water and Dr. White dips a rag into it to clean around the torn flesh. Connor only twitches and turns his head. Looking up at Terry and Godfrey, the doctor motions toward Connor.

"Godfrey, hold his shoulders. Terry, sit on his legs. He may seem sedated now but as soon as I start cutting he'll fight." True to his word, when Lyle takes his scalpel to Connor's side, his groans turn into screams and he thrashes on the bed. Diana grabs his right arm and keeps it away from the doctor. More blood seeps steadily from the incision as the doctor cuts deeper through layers of muscle. At last he reaches the damaged portion of Connor's body and exposes the path of ragged and torn tissues where the injury occurred. Dr. White holds his hand out toward the forceps on the bed while staring deep into the wound.

"Diana… oh." Diana is completely occupied with holding Connor's right arm as he thrashes on the bed. Ellen steps out of the room and drags Lance back in.

"Hold his arm for her. Lyle needs her help!" Lance takes Connor's arm and studiously looks away from what the doctor is doing. Blood runs down the side of the bed and drips onto a pile of saturated rags on the floor. Diana settles herself next to the doctor and holds the edges of the long, deep incision open.

"Is everyone ready? This will get rough." The doctor makes certain all the men holding Connor down are prepared. Warren joins them and takes Connor's left arm so Godfrey can concentrate on holding his upper body down. The doctor dips a rag into the steaming water and squeezes it out over the wound. Connor's screams become broken and guttural as he writhes on the bed. He manages to drag Lance and Warren a good amount as he attempts to raise his arms, and Terry has to roll over onto his stomach and grip the side frames of the bed with his hands and feet to keep Connor from kicking his legs. Myriam, Prudence and Ellen gather together in a corner as they watch the terrible scene. Prudence and Ellen have their hands over their mouths and Myriam stands between them, holding their arms in hers tightly. Ellen sheds silent tears as she watches Connor's agony unfold endlessly.

Doctor White works quickly, plucking out splinters of wood from the wound and even a scrap of fabric from Connor's shirt. Some of the splinters are minutely small and are only revealed for the briefest of moments when he pours more water over the wound. When he believes he has discovered and removed them all, he washes out the wound several more times with a fresh pot of boiled water to wash away any he might have missed and sanitize the injury. Connor continues to fight through his pain and fevered state, though his strength has been sapped considerably. Diana attempts to hold edges of Connor's exposed muscles closed as Dr. White stitches them but Connor's continued thrashing tears the stitches free.

"Dammit! I can't sew him closed if he keeps ripping the stitches out. I'll have nothing left to work with!" Ellen wipes her tears and breaks away from the women.

"I'll sew it."

"Yes, that will be good. We can both hold the edges together and keep them from separating while you sew. Use a running stitch and leave the ends long. I have to be able to remove them later without opening his skin." Ellen's hand shakes as she takes the needle from the doctor. He pinches the muscles together and Ellen pushes the needle through. Connor's muscles have a strange resistance and it makes her clench her teeth. With the Doctor keeping everything together, she is able to work quickly, though, and after only a few minutes she has closed the muscles tightly.

"Now the skin. Tie each stitch individually and keep them as small as possible to minimize scarring, though at this point… He'll have a huge one anyway. Don't forget to let the inner stitches' thread ends remain outside his body." Ellen nods and works silently. Half way through the skin stitching, Connor finally falls completely unresponsive. When she is finished, fifty seven individual knots keep the ragged original wound on the front of his abdomen and the straight incision that runs across Connor's side closed. They are almost perfectly spaced and exactly the same size. Dr. White uses a fresh rag to wipe off the blood that had smudged over Connor's skin from Ellen's fingers. He takes the needle out of her shaking hand and replaces it with a dampened rag.

"That's some great work, Ellen. I couldn't have done them better myself." He nods at her reassuringly and Prudence and Myriam help her to her feet and lead her away. They sit her down at the table and clean off her hands and a smudge of blood that marks her cheek where she had brushed away a bit of her hair at one point. Diana helps the doctor wrap a long length of bandage around Connor's stomach with the help of Terry and Godfrey rolling Connor onto his sides so they can pass it underneath him and bind it tightly. When it is done, Dr. White sighs and cleans off his tools and hands carefully.

"Now we wait… and pray that his youth and vitality can carry him through the next few days. If he can survive the week, he'll live. He'll need to be watched all the time until he breaks from this fever." The women come back with some soap and clean linens and they wash Connor's face and hands until he is as clean as they can reasonably get him. The men aid them in changing the wet and bloody sheets until they are satisfied with his relative comfort and he appears to be resting. No one is sure whether he is actually asleep or if he is merely unconscious from weakness, pain, blood loss or the alcohol he was dosed so heavily with. Almost everyone stands around the bed looking at him in awkward silence. There isn't a single person present who hadn't been aided by Connor and a heavy cloak of fear for his life stifles them all. Diana breaks the silence.

"I'll sit with him first." Myriam shakes her head and steps over to her.

"No. You've done so much already. I'll stay. Tell Norris to find me here when he comes from the mine."

"I'm here, Myriam!" He calls from the hallway and makes his way through the crowd to his wife's side.

"I'll stay with you." With the decision made, everyone else files quietly out and loiters outside the manor. No one knows what to do but Corrine invites them all to the inn to talk about it without disturbing his rest. Some speculation arises once more but for the most part, everyone is lost in their own silent thoughts. The atmosphere is hushed and tense despite Corrine distributing ale to all. Eventually, everyone drifts back to their own homes as the sun sets.

Ellen can't sleep. She is certain she isn't the only one, either. At the very least, her daughter is passing the night uncomfortably but she is old enough now that she shouldn't be rushing to her side all the time. Maria is a young woman now and should be treated as such, not a little girl. As badly as she had wanted to embrace her when she had had to tell her what happened to Connor, she had refrained and Ellen had felt somewhat rewarded by her daughter's stoic and ladylike handling of the news. Her only question had broken Ellen's heart because she couldn't answer it.

"Will he die, mother?"

"I don't know. We have to wait and see but I trust Dr. White." Maria had merely nodded and turned her head aside to look at the floor. Only the furtive movements of her clasped hands betrayed her disquiet. She had dismissed herself and not left her room since. Maria has great affection for Connor. It had become almost hero worship in the early days of their move to Davenport but as she had grown into a young woman, she had managed to temper her opinion of him somewhat.

In the morning, Ellen rises early and leaves a short note for Maria. She gathers a basket with some sewing projects and walks to the inn to see about any updates on Connor that may have come in the night. Corrine greets her warmly.

"Have you heard anything more about Connor's condition?" Ellen asks.

"Nothing other than he had a rough time of it in the middle of the night. Norris has a broken finger from holding him down and keeping him from tearing his bandages off."

"Oh, dear." Ellen rethinks her decision to take over the watch for the morning. She wouldn't be able to stop Connor if he decided he wanted to get out of bed or remove his bandages.

"Dr. White went over and helped Myriam secure him so he can't do it again."

"Oh…" Ellen gives Corrine a sidelong glance as a strange sense of anxiety fills her. She brushes it aside and changes the subject.

"I was thinking I'd like to bring something for him to eat… in case he wakes up and is hungry. He needs his strength to recover." Corrine laughs.

"He's sure got plenty of strength, I'll wager. Norris can attest to that! But let me get some soup from the kitchen. I was thinking I'd like to send some over anyway so you can take it with you." Corrine disappears into the kitchen and returns with a lidded teapot filled with soup. Despite the cork stopping the spout, a strong smell of beef stock and hearty vegetables fills the air around them when she carefully sets it into the space Ellen has made in her basket.

"There's a bit of meat and vegetables in there, but it's mostly broth. I doubt he'll be up for a full meal just yet."

"No matter. If he is, I can make something else at the manor for him."

"You let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."

"I will, Corrine, thank you."

The walk to the manor isn't far and Ellen is soon at the door. She knocks softly. Norris opens the door and ushers her inside. Two of his fingers are splinted together and wrapped in bandages.

"Ellen."

"Norris. I heard about your hand from Corrine." Norris raises his bandaged hand up and turns it as he looks at it.

"It looks worse than it is. He didn't mean it. I think he thought he was being attacked or something. The way he shouted and fought… I thought we were both going to fall on the floor but I managed to hold him down until Myriam returned with Dr. White. It was a good thing he was so worn down from his surgery or I wouldn't have been able to." As they talk, they walk into the kitchen to set down Ellen's things. Myriam joins them.

"Myriam, Ellen brought some soup from Corrine for Connor."

"How kind! He's still unconscious. I don't know how much of it he'll eat."

"It's alright. I was thinking I'd take over the watch for a while. You've been here all night and must be exhausted." Myriam and Norris exchange a brief glance.

"Maybe you should see him first." Ellen's stomach drops and she follows Myriam back into the downstairs bedroom. Connor is asleep but ropes extend from the four bedposts. The rope is doubled up and the ends are passed through the loop and secured tightly around Connor's ankles and wrists. If he pulls against them, the rope will tighten automatically. His right arm is up above his head and resting on the pillow next to his face. That length of rope is too short to allow his arm to be at his side like his left.

"He tried to tear his bandages off last night. When I grabbed his hand… that's when he caught my fingers and twisted. Ellen. No matter what happens, stay away from his hands. He isn't aware of what he does or who is around him because of his fever and I don't want you getting hurt.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"We can send someone else over to sit with you, if you like."

"I'll be fine. I brought some mending with me and others will probably come by."

After Myriam and Norris leave, Ellen approaches the bed slowly to look closer at Connor. She kneels and lowers the blanket enough to look at his bandage. It is reddened with blood but not as much as she was fearing from his struggles. She hopes he didn't tear out any stitches in his struggle during the night. Ellen pulls down gently on the bandage until she can see the top of the incision. His skin is burning hot. Everything seems to be together so she smoothes the bandage back. As she is covering Connor with the blanket, he turns his head toward her and opens his eyes. He seems to look right through her with his striking, golden irises.

"Connor?" Ellen speaks softly to him, resting her hand lightly on his chest on top of the blanket. He doesn't seem to hear her so she says his name again, louder.

"Connor? Are you hungry?" He changes the position of his head and abruptly attempts to sit up. His hands strike out toward Ellen and are stopped short by the ropes holding him in place. Ellen screams and falls backwards away from him onto the floor. Connor is groaning through clenched teeth with his exertion and the muscles in his neck, arms and shoulders are bunched tightly as he pulls against his restraints. The rope and bedposts creak under the force of his struggles and Ellen pictures them snapping, releasing a blind, feverish and enraged man more than twice her size and several times her strength onto her helpless form. They hold, however, so Ellen sits up and watches Connor as he strains against them. His arms shake from the effort and his hands clench and unclench. The ropes are so tight around his reddened wrists that his irritated skin is bunched into uneven wrinkles. His groans materialize into slightly garbled words.

"Let me go! Stop this!" At last he falls back onto the bed, panting and sweating. The Connor Ellen knows would never hurt her and it is only his fever confusing him but nevertheless, she is terrified of him.

Ellen creeps back from the bed and sits in the chair Myriam had previously occupied, clutching her hand on the knot of her shawl. Connor's partially bent knees drop down onto the bed and as his breathing slows he seems so fall back into deep slumber. The blankets had slipped partially off of him and he is shivering but Ellen is hesitant to go anywhere near him now. Only when his breathing becomes slow and deep does she tentatively rise from her chair and approach the bed. With the lightest touch she can manage, she covers him with the blanket once again. He takes one slightly deeper breath and whispers two words in his sleep.

"Thank you." Ellen looks down at him. Instead of the frightening man she had seen only a short time ago, he is once again the caring person they had all come to know and love. She reaches her left hand to his face and touches his right cheek. His fever has made his skin burn with heat and at the touch of her cool palm he turns his face away with a soft moan. His right arm pulls briefly at the rope holding it up near his head. It isn't an aggressive one and Ellen gets the feeling he had been attempting to reach for her hand. In order to let him rest, she takes her hand away from his face and retrieves her sewing from the kitchen.

A short time later Dr. White comes by. Ellen sets her mending aside and looks up at him as he speaks from the doorway.

"And how is our patient?"

"Resting relatively comfortably… now." The doctor turns to face her at her words.

"Was there another incident?"

"He… became aggressive for a brief moment. If he hadn't been restrained he might have hurt me, accidentally." They both look over at the bed when Connor stirs in reaction to their voices.

"Did Norris and Myriam warn you to keep your distance?" Ellen nods.

"They did. It was fine Doctor." He looks sharply at her for a moment before approaching the bed and boldly reaching to touch Connor's forehead.

"The fever is slightly worse, I do believe." Dr. White frowns and then crosses his arms as he looks down at Connor.

"Connor. Connor! Can you hear me?" Connor turns his head and seems to rouse himself slightly.

"Connor, I need you to wake up. Ellen is here. You're being quite rude…" Ellen shakes her head and covers her mouth, worried. Dr. White tugs the blankets down to Connor's waist, uncovers his legs up to his knees and waits. When he resumes his irregular shivering the doctor tries again to wake him.

"Connor! Wake up!" Connor's arms move as he attempts to reach for the covers.

"No. You have to wake up first!" Dr. White is stern with his response and Ellen has to lean against the wall to prevent herself from pushing him aside and covering Connor as his shivering intensifies.

"Doctor! He's freezing!"

"I can see that, Ellen. He needs to wake up though. I can't have him slipping away from us into a coma." Dr. White reaches down and rubs his knuckles forcefully on the upper portion of Connor's sternum. His eyes open wide and focus for the first time. They dart around the room and then move from Ellen to Dr. White and back again. He attempts to sit up and then falls back onto the pillow with a wince. He tugs against the rope with his right arm and appears bewildered at his restraints.

"Aah, Connor." Connor looks up at Dr. White.

"Why am I bound to the bed?" His teeth continue to chatter as Dr. White speaks patiently with Connr.

"You were badly injured and you have a fever. I had to operate on you so you need to stay in bed. Your fever is disorienting you and you got combative. We had to keep you from hurting…" Ellen interrupts the doctor.

"Yourself! We had to keep you from hurting yourself." Connor squints at Ellen and attempts to touch his face.

"Connor. What happened to you?" Connor doesn't answer the doctor. He fights his restraints and thrashes on the bed.  
"No! No, save her! Save her!" He starts screaming in his native tongue and fighting his restraints.

"He's gone again." The doctor waits until Connor exhausts himself and falls limply to the bed, unconscious.

"What was that?" Ellen sits in the chair in an effort to hide her shaky horror.

"A fever dream. He's hallucinating." The doctor doesn't look up from his work. He examines the stitches on Connor's side and tucks some additional clean rags against his skin under the bandage around Connor's body. When he is done, he examines Connor's wrists and ankles.

"Hmm. If he keeps on fighting these restraints, he'll injure himself. Ellen, do you have any fabric or rags you can spare?" Ellen nods and reaches into her sewing basket.

"I washed the ones you used yesterday in case he kept bleeding."

"Perfect. I want to wrap his wrists and ankles with them to prevent any further damage to his skin." Together, Ellen and Dr. White loosen the ropes and bind Connor's ankles and wrists with a few layers of soft fabric. Ellen is still sitting on Connor's left side when Dr. White stands and puts on his hat.

"I must see to some other patients today. His stitches have held, thanks to your skill. Ellen… I would recommend that you don't hold his hand much. Maybe when he's deeply asleep, but it's too dangerous for you to be within his reach if he has another dream."

"I'll be careful, Doctor. Thank you." The Doctor nods and takes his leave. Ellen drags the rag down that she just wrapped around Connor's wrist and softly touches his reddened and abraded skin with one finger while holding his left hand in her lap. His hand is huge compared to hers and there are many scars and calluses that cover its surface. Connor breathes slowly and deeply in his rest now but the panic in his eyes had been genuine and Ellen wonders what he had been saying when he had switched to the language of his people. Connor is a tortured soul; that much everyone knows despite his reluctance to speak of much, if any of it. He has seen and experienced a great deal in his relatively short life. Then again, so has she. Before she can stop herself, she raises his hand to her lips and kisses the backs of his fingers once quickly before lowering his hand to her lap again.

Ellen has never felt she could speak to anyone about what went on between her and Quincent. Maria witnessed some of it… the marks and bruises, the time when her lip was cut and bleeding from one of her husband's more vicious attacks with a riding crop… and she knows Maria would not deny hearing their confrontations if she were to ask her. Thank God he never laid a hand on their daughter. He hadn't attempted to bother them since Connor and her neighbors had run him out of town. Ellen sighs. This world can't afford to lose such a good man when there are so many bad ones out there.

Connor's hot hand moves in hers with a stronger than usual shiver of his body and Ellen reluctantly winds the rope over his cloth wrapped wrist and tightens it. She lays his hand down gently and decides to find him another blanket with the hope that his fever will break and he will get well.


	2. Chapter 2

The upstairs of the Davenport manor is silent and empty when Ellen reaches the top of the staircase in search of additional blankets for Connor. Just like the other quiet rooms in the nearly vacant house, the floorboards creak loudly under her light footsteps as she moves along the corridor towards one of the closed doors. Inside, sunlight floods the room from a set of French doors that lead to a small balcony. Some bookshelves with weapons on them follow the walls and a small table next to an armchair in the middle of the room holds Connor's two guns, his tomahawk and a hunting knife. His bow and quiver lean against the nearest bookshelf. Someone must have gathered up his things from the ground outside and deposited them up here during all the commotion yesterday.

Ellen stands at the table and picks up the tomahawk that, until the events of the past day, always rested against Connor's hip whenever she saw him. It is heavy despite not having a solid blade like every other hatchet she'd seen. Only Connor's weapon would be as unique as the man who wields it. Ellen touches the tiny feather that hangs from a small, beaded cord tied around the middle of the handle. Dried blood stains it and she wonders if it came from Connor's grievous injury. A surge of anxiety for him washes over Ellen so she places the tomahawk down hastily and moves from the room to continue on her quest.

The next room she enters is clearly Connor's bedroom. It smells faintly of wood polished with bees wax and leather, the staleness and dust of a room left unused for an extended period of time. Since Mr. Davenport passed away, the house would stand empty whenever Connor would embark on his many travels. The manor had become a dependable resting place for the man who never seems to rest for more than a few fleeting moments… until now.

Items from his village dot the walls and decorate the horizontal surfaces within Connor's bedroom. A feathered hat with three large eagle feathers standing up from it, a necklace made from shells, some carved wooden items, weapons and a beautifully woven throw are displayed around the room prominently. It is more of his Indian heritage than he had ever shown in public and Ellen feels like an intruder in his private space. She moves quickly to his canopied bed and gathers up the small throw carefully to remove the much larger blanket below. Once the blanket is folded, Ellen carefully replaces the throw over the sheets just the way Connor had left it. She picks up the folded blanket and looks back into the room once before closing the door behind her.

Back downstairs, Ellen drapes the blanket over Connor's sleeping form. His body is wracked by shivers and sweat beads his brow. Taking up a soft rag from her basket, she dampens it with some of the water in a nearby ewer and carefully sits on the side of the bed to lean close and lay it over his forehead. He stirs and his breathing rate increases slightly. Ellen keeps a close eye on Connor's right hand where it rests on the pillow but it never moves more than a few subtle twitches of his fingers or a turn of his wrist.

Maria stops by later in the morning. Her cool composure from the night before slips away when she sees Connor tied to the bed and this time Ellen folds her daughter in her arms and softly strokes her back as she weeps.

"Mother, why is he tied up?"

"He's feverish. He doesn't know we're trying to help him and he's too strong to be left alone. He might hurt himself or someone else if he wakes up and thinks he is being attacked."

"But we can just tell him he's safe!"

"Oh, my sweet… He doesn't understand. His mind is addled from the fever."

"Will he always be like this?"

"No. Once the fever breaks he'll be himself again. We just need to wait it out." Maria steps back from Ellen and wipes her eyes as she looks at Connor.

"Can I talk to him?"

"Of course, my dear. How much he hears I couldn't say but it can't hurt. He might like to hear your voice; he's very fond of you. Just… be careful. Remember that he isn't himself."

"Connor would never hurt me."

"Of course he wouldn't. Not intentionally, Maria, but mind my words."

"Yes, mother." Maria sits carefully on the edge of the bed and looks at Connor. She is silent for a time until she turns to Ellen where she stands close by.

"What should I say?" she whispers.

"Whatever you want. Your well wishes, or tell him a story so he can have good dreams." Maria faces Connor again and moves the cloth so it doesn't cover his eyebrows. Her voice is halting when she finds it.

"Connor… Connor? It's me, Maria. It's me. I, um… I want you to feel better soon, alright?" Only the sound of Connor's breathing fills the room.

"Remember that time you showed me around the Aquila and Mr. Faulkner's face turned as red as a cherry? He was so upset that you brought me on board and kept saying it was going to sink but then you told him he was a blustering old fool and he stomped onto the dock. I didn't laugh but I wanted to. I never told you that." Ellen smiles at her daughter and lightly covers her lips with her fingers while cupping her elbow with her other hand. Connor turns his head on the pillow and moves his arm as if to reach toward Maria. Ellen steps forward to block him but Maria takes his hand before she can get there.

"It's me, Connor. Do you remember that?"

"Maria!" Ellen whispers loudly to her daughter and gives her a meaningful look, reminding her to be cautious. Maria's tiny hand barely covers any of Connor's large one and all Ellen can picture is his strong grip closing on her and hurting her. His fingers do close on Maria's hand and Ellen is nauseous until he brings it closer to his face and he whispers in his sleep.

"Maria…?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm here. Mother's here as well." Maria says with enthusiasm. Ellen leans over and joins her hand with theirs.

"It's Ellen, Connor. You're not alone." Connor's eyes open and he peers at them.

"Connor! You're awake!" Maria gasps excitedly.

"Why are you here?" He looks around the room, confused.

"Achilles… where is the Old Man?" Maria draws back from Connor and covers her mouth with both hands. Ellen takes Connor's hand more fully and sits when Maria stands up abruptly and leaves the room, weeping.

"Mr. Davenport died a long time ago. You must remember the funeral. We were all there. You left a feather on his casket." Connor's eyes dart around the room.

"Ellen! Why would you say such things? Where is he?"

"Ssshhh. Just rest. You're unwell." She reaches for the cloth on Connor's forehead but he lifts his head and tries to sit up. His eyebrows draw together when he finds himself faced down by Ellen's frown.

"I cannot rest! Is he hurt?" Ellen shakes her head and pushes down on his chest when he tugs on the ropes holding his wrists.

"Untie me."

"No."

"Ellen, please."

"No! It's Dr. White's direction. Not until you're better."

"I am not sick."

"No? Then what's this?" Ellen stands and pulls the blankets off of Connor's right side, exposing his stained bandages and pointing angrily at them. He looks down his body and then up at Ellen, confused.

"What happened?"

"We were hoping you could answer that." Connor's breathing rate increases until he is nearly panting. He fights against the ropes and thrashes on the bed, grimacing in obvious pain.

"Stop that! Connor, stop! You're not going to get better if you keep fighting!" Ellen is almost shouting at him and Maria crouches in the doorway, crying. Ellen leaves the side of the bed and goes to her daughter, sitting down on the floor beside her and holding her while Connor struggles and screams unintelligible words. The bed shifts slightly on the floor and Ellen fears he really will tear his stitches out. As quickly as he had begun to fight, he falls limply to the bed and is once again unresponsive. Maria trembles and takes her hands from her face.

"Is he dead?" Ellen pulls her daughter's head over to her shoulder and kisses the top of it.

"No. He's just exhausted himself again."

"I can't see him like this… please excuse me." Maria climbs to her feet with Ellen's help and opens the door of the manor to dash outside. Ellen watches her run down the stairs and along the path, holding her skirts in one hand and covering her mouth with the other. Poor girl. She passes by Godfrey and Big Dave as they approach the manor. Godfrey says something, reaching for her arm and turning after her but she ignores him and continues on her way. Ellen straightens her shawl and smoothes her hair, hoping she doesn't look like a mess. She quickly covers Connor back up and tidies his blankets, taking a seat in her chair just as the men enter the manor. They shuffle into the room and stand bunched together just inside the doorway like two awkward giants. Ellen feels the need to explain.

"He had another… episode. It frightened Maria. He didn't remember that Mr. Davenport had passed and he fought his restraints. Again." They nod almost in unison. Big Dave turns his hands upward.

"We thought we might sit with him… give you a rest." Ellen is actually relieved at the thought of getting a breath of air. She should probably find Maria.

"Thank you, I will. He's tired himself out again. I'll send Diana or Dr. White over to check his stitches if I see either of them."

The sun is farther beyond its zenith than Ellen had realized. She had spent much of the day by Connor's side and had neglected her own needs. Her stomach rumbles loudly and she makes a brief stop at the inn to have a bite to eat and inform Corrine of the latest news. After, she heads for where she is fairly certain she will find Maria. Prudence answers the door and by the look on her face, Ellen knows she surmised correctly. She follows Prudence into her living room and Maria is curled in a soft chair holding Hunter across her lap. The baby is asleep and Maria appears to be as well. Ellen and Prudence sit at the table together. When Ellen briefly covers her face with her hands, Prudence touches her arm lightly.

"She'll be alright. She told me what happened. We're all worried about him but the young ones just don't deal with it the same." Ellen nods and takes Prudence's hand.

"Thank you for being here for her. I couldn't leave Connor… I couldn't leave him… alone."

"Don't you worry about that. We're all in this together, aren't we?" Ellen heaves a sigh and nods again.

"Listen to me, Ellen. I can see what this is doing to you. Don't let your feelings for him override your common sense. We don't know how long this'll last. You've got a certain look in your eyes and you won't be doing anybody good… not you, not your girl, not Connor, if you wear yourself out right from the start." Ellen sucks in her breath, holding in a quiet sob. Prudence tightens her hand in Ellen's.

"We'll take turns sitting with him. It's not all on your shoulders just because you love him."

"Prudence… Is it that obvious?" Prudence tilts her head and smiles at Ellen.

"It's obvious to me but that's because I already know. You're not the talk of the town, I assure you."

"Mother?" Ellen looks over at Maria and gets up to cross the room and sit in the chair next to her daughter's.

"Yes, my dear? Are you feeling better?" Ellen strokes Maria's soft cheek and smiles at her. Maria nods and is quiet. Ellen looks down at Hunter sleeping hard in Maria's lap. She touches her finger to the boy's little hand and he grasps it tightly in his sleep. She is startled at Maria's next words.

"Are you in love with Connor?" When Ellen doesn't respond, she continues.

"I've heard you talking to Myriam and Prudence before. And I heard you just now…." Ellen sighs and is unable to find any words.

"It's alright, mother. I feel safe with him around. Not like with father." The change in her tone when she speaks of Quincent is startling.

"My dear, I… He…" Ellen turns her face away and looks desperately at Prudence. Prudence merely raises an eyebrow at her. Ellen takes her meaning. Maria isn't a little girl anymore.

"Yes. I've had… feelings for him for a long time."

"Will you marry him?"

"I doubt it. He doesn't know my heart and he's never given me any indication that he feels the same. So. That is how it remains. And… he's somewhat younger than I…"

"You should tell him how you feel." Ellen gasps and Prudence covers her mouth in a quiet laugh.

"That would be very inappropriate and forward of me to do such a thing! What ever gave you that idea?" Maria seems to become frustrated.

"Why shouldn't you speak up? Being a quiet, prim lady didn't win you a good man with father, did it? And if Connor gets better you're just going to let him decide for you? Without even telling him how you feel?" Maria scoops Hunter up in her arms and clutches him tightly to her chest before bringing him to Prudence and walking outside onto the porch. Ellen follows her out.

"Young lady, get back here. Don't you dare blame me for what happened between your father and me! I was too young to know what to look for and he didn't exactly tell me he would hit me! Maria!" Ellen grabs her daughter's arm and she spins to face her. They stand facing each other on Prudence's porch, breathing hard and their expressions a mirror image of one another. Maria presses her lips together and pulls her arm away.

"Connor would _never_ hit you! He wouldn't yell or throw things… And I would never hear you crying again! That's what I remember most, mother. You. Crying when you thought I couldn't hear because of what father did. Can't you see I just want you to be happy? That I just want _us_ to be happy?" Ellen's face softens under her daughter's righteous ire and her heart breaks for what she had had to endure for so long. She reaches toward her daughter.

"Oh, my love. My sweet baby girl..." Maria flings herself into Ellen's arms and weeps loudly for the second time in one day.

"I'm sorry, mama! I was impudent." Ellen catches sight of Prudence in the doorway, cradling her sleeping son on her chest. They smile at each other and Prudence shuts the door as Ellen and Maria walk with their arms around each other toward their home. On their way, Ellen spots Diana as she is walking towards them on the same path. When they get close, Ellen reports to her the events of the morning.

"Alright, I'll go take a look at the poor lad. Thanks for tellin' me." Maria squeezes her mother's waist tighter and they continue on to their home.

That night, Ellen is once again restless. The words of her daughter ring in her ears. She finds herself profoundly affected by the girl's thought provoking opinion. Why shouldn't she make her feelings known, in private, to Connor? They are both adults… Granted, she is a bit older than him but it's not like she could be his mother. He isn't old enough to be Maria's father but that wouldn't stop him from being a father figure to her. The longer she thinks on it, the more she feels compelled to speak of it with him. Her heart sinks in her chest at her next consideration. What if he doesn't recover from this? He could die never knowing how she has felt for much of the past two years she has known him.

In the small hours of very early morning, Ellen finally gets up and dresses. She tiptoes to Maria's room and lays her hand on her daughter's shoulder to wake her.

"What is it, mama?" Maria asks, sleepily.

"I can't sleep, dear. I'm going to go check on Connor."

"Do you want me to go with you? It's dark and you shouldn't walk alone."

"I'll be fine. I just wanted you to know where I am. And… I think there are some things I should tell him."

"Oh. Mother… I hope he can understand."

"I hope so too." Ellen whispers, as she kisses her daughter's tousled hair and then taps the tip of her nose like she used to when she was just a toddler. Maria lies back with a smile and Ellen pulls the blankets up over her.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too." Ellen quietly leaves her daughter's room and shuts the door. She ties her shawl over her shoulders and lights a lantern to illuminate her path through the town.

The night is quiet except for the rustling of the trees in the breeze. It isn't far from sunrise and the air is cool but not cold, yet Ellen reaches to her shawl and tugs it up closer to her neck. A fluttering in her stomach makes her steps irregular but she knows telling Connor how she feels is the right thing to do.

There is a light in the kitchen window of the Manor when it comes into sight between the trees. Ellen knocks lightly on the door and then opens it a tiny bit to peek her head in. To her surprise, Catherine, Godfrey's wife, meets her at the door of the kitchen. The smell of something cooking wafts over to her and Catherine holds a wooden spoon in her hand.

"What brings ya here, Ellen? Yer basket's still by the chair if ya need it."

"I couldn't sleep. What are you making?"

"I'm just heatin' up the broth ya brought with ya yesterday. The lad hasn't had anathin' to eat yet and that isn't goin' ta help him at all."

"Is he awake, then?"

"He's in an' out. I think his fever's finally breakin'. Diana's sure we'll know one way or the other within the next few hours."

"I'll go sit with him and help you give the broth to him if he wakes."

"Alright, dear. Be warned, though, he's startin' to get a little ripe, if ya know what I mean. The boy needs a bath somethin' fierce with all that sweatin he's doin'." To her surprise, Ellen laughs. Connor needing a bath is the least of her worries at the moment.

Connor is sleeping somewhat peacefully when Ellen enters the room. He isn't shivering and when she lightly touches his face, his skin isn't nearly as fiery as before. Ellen sits on the edge of the bed and leans forward, surreptitiously sniffing the air near Connor's neck. He smells like a sweaty, sick person who needs a bath, that's all. It's far from the worst Ellen has smelled on a man before. At least he doesn't smell of alcohol anymore, as the massive quantity they had forced into him two days ago had finally stopped seeping from his pores at some point during the day. That alone had made Ellen want to gag, for often her husband had reeked similarly after a night of drinking and brawling. When he would come home he would continue his violence, forcing himself on her and striking her mercilessly if she resisted. Ellen sighs at the remembrance. All she will allow herself to do is hope for Connor to escape his fever. Baby steps. Anything more and she fears she will only be setting herself up for disappointment.

The water in the ewer near the bed had been refilled so Ellen takes the basin out from under it, fills it with some of the water and drops a fresh cloth in it. She returns to Connor's side and lightly touches his cheek.

"Connor." He takes a deep breath and the muscles in his neck tense and relax momentarily as if he would turn or lift his head but then he lies still.

"Connor… It's Ellen." She rests her right hand on his chest and strokes his cheek softly with the other.

"Catherine is making something for you to eat. We need you to wake up and eat so you can get well." Her voice falls to a whisper and a surge of emotions fill her up until she almost can't speak.

"I need you to get well, Connor. I _need_ you to… Please. You're the only person in this cursed world I care about besides Maria." Ellen can't stop talking. A flood of the words she is choking on come from her in a rushed whisper, emptying her heart and leaving her weak and with tears pooling in her eyes.

"You saved us, you know, that day when Maria took you to our house in New York. And you saved us again when Quincent came here. I owe you everything for that and… I care for you. Not because of what you did but who you are. I feel like I still don't know you… seeing how hurt you are from whatever it is you do when you aren't here in Davenport…I know you're fighting for something… something good. You're a good person and nothing else matters to me." Ellen nods as if reassuring herself, leans down and rests her forehead on Connor's chest just below his chin. She continues to stroke his cheek and the side of his neck with her fingers as some of her tears fall from her eyes onto his blanket. She sits back up and wipes her cheeks on her shoulders, sniffing back her running nose.

"But in some ways I feel like I must have known you forever. I think… you're the only one who might understand me completely. You've known hurt before. I can see it in your eyes and the way you care. You want to make things better for people. Only someone who has been hurt in the past… badly, deeply… would work at that as hard as you do. My husband… he was wicked, truly wicked. He hurt not only me but a lot of other people. Maria escaped his wrath. Sometimes it was because I took her beatings for her and other times it was because she knew to get out before he could find her, but God, Connor. I've never told anyone that before. Of everyone in the world… you're the only one I _can_ tell because I think you're the only one who could really understand. And that's why I care. It's why I… I love you." She leans forward and kisses his forehead just above his eyebrows.

"I just wanted you to know… in case the worst happens. But I have faith in you. You're strong and you _will_ get better. You have to. You have to." Ellen slides her hand off of Connor's chest and takes his left hand where it rests on his stomach. She sits back and takes it in both of her hands, raises it up as far as his restraints allow, kisses his palm and presses it to her cheek.

"Oh, dearie." Ellen jumps and lowers Connor's hand from her face. Catherine is leaning on the door frame with a bowl of the broth and a spoon in her hands.

"He's gonna' get better, you'll see." She smiles in a motherly way and Ellen finds herself relieved that she must have only heard that last of what she said to Connor.

"Let's see if we can't get some o' this broth in him and then we can wash him up a little." Catherine nods toward the basin Ellen had filled. She places the bowl and spoon on the nearby table and leans over Connor.

"Rise and shine, lad, I've got some soup for ya." Catherine reaches to Connor's shoulder and shakes it. He mumbles something and turns his head farther away.

"Now don't ya be angerin' me, ya hear? Yer gonna' wake up and drink some a this soup or I'm gonna tan yer hide." Connor's eyes open and he turns his head toward Catherine.

"Ah! Works every time with me boys. Can't be coddlin' him like a babe, even if he acts like one." Connor looks over at Ellen and then down at where she still holds his hand. Their eyes meet. He is more aware than he has been and Ellen drops her head, breaking eye contact with him and subtly moving as if to let go of his hand. He tightens his grip on her and she meets his eyes once again. He squints at her strangely and looks back at Catherine.

"Are ya gonna' eat what we give ya, or what?" Connor nods and the two women help him sit up slightly. Ellen goes to the other side of the bed and rearranges his pillows to keep him propped up. He tries to hide his discomfort from them but he grimaces until he is settled in a half sitting, half lying down position. Catherine sits on one side of him with the soup and Ellen sits near his head with a cloth napkin. Connor forgets his wrists are tied several times and tries to take the spoon from Catherine. He is quiet and more like himself, much to Ellen's obvious relief. He is clearly embarrassed that they are feeding him and even more so when Ellen wipes his chin. She tries to distract him from his embarrassment.

"Do you remember anything from the past two days?" Connor looks over at her and nods, meeting her eyes once again with that strange expression on his face. Ellen faces her hands where she is restlessly folding the napkin and only looks at him from the sides of her eyes.

"Some things… feel like a dream. I do not know what was real."

"Ya caused quite the commotion when ya came home, lad." Connor faces Catherine and his lips shift slightly as he appears to be attempting to remember.

"I was hurt. Worse than I thought I was. I remember… Dr. White and pain… so many voices. And someone was crying." He faces Ellen and his eyes open wide.

"Maria! Maria was crying." Ellen nods.

"That was yesterday." Connor starts to raise his hand to his head but is pulled up short by his restraints. He turns his wrist and frowns at the ropes attached to him.

"Did… Did I hurt anyone?" Catherine places her hand on Connor's wrist and lowers it down to the bed.

"It doesn' matter, dear."

"But it does matter!"

"Shhh. Don' be gettin' yerself all flustered. Norris isn' holdin' it against ya. Ya broke his finger is all. He'll be jus' fine. He's already usin it to get free ale at the inn, the scallywag!" Catherine stops any further protest from Connor by spooning more soup up and bringing it to his mouth. He obediently eats it but the distressed look doesn't leave his features. Ellen tries to smile at him whenever he looks over at her in an attempt to set him at ease. When he finishes the meal to Catherine's satisfaction, she stands and sets the bowl aside. She rests her hands on her ample hips and tilts her head as she looks down at Connor.

"Now ya need a bath. An' don' be fightin' us 'bout it. Yer stinkin' like a pig sty!" A look of horror crosses Connor's face and Ellen touches his bare arm lightly.

"It's not quite that bad." To hide her laugh from him, she gets off the bed and crouches down to untie the rope that holds his left wrist. Connor raises it up and moves it in a circle to loosen up his joint. The rope trails over the bed as he does.

"Ya better stay on yer best behavior with that hand untied." Catherine says with a gesture of her arm toward Connor. Ellen moves to the foot of the bed and unties the two ropes holding his ankles.

"And yer feet…" Catherine crosses her arms and frowns at Ellen then.

"We can't let him stay in dirty sheets if he's clean." Catherine harrumphs at her and pulls the covers down. Connor takes in a sharp breath when he sees his stomach wrapped up. He reaches his left hand over and touches the bandages carefully, sliding a finger under to lift them up and peek underneath. Catherine slaps his arm away.

"I'll tie ya back up, I will!" A look of real concern fills Connor's eyes and he meekly settles his hand back. Ellen rounds the bed and reaches her hands toward Connor. Catherine helps him swing his legs off the side of the bed while he uses Ellen to sit up, pushing with is right arm still tied to the bed.

At first, Connor tries to avoid using Ellen to sit up but when he finds himself unable to accomplish even that on his own, he grasps Ellen's hands tightly and she pulls him to a sitting position. He breathes heavily and waits for the spinning to fade away. It does for the most part but he is rather disconcerted by how disoriented and weak he feels and by how much it hurt just to get up.

"Tha's it! There." Catherine says encouragingly to him when he curls his toes on the cool floorboards beneath his feet. He brings his hand to his forehead and closes his eyes when another wave of dizziness overtakes him. Catherine and Ellen both hold him by his shoulders and upper arms and he is grateful for their support.

"Maybe we shouldn't have sat you up…" Ellen says quietly to Connor.

"No. I will be alright. I do not want to offend anyone with my smell…" Connor looks over at Catherine with a grimace on his lips and she tsks and reaches for his last rope, untying it and then reaching to the wash basin. The water is cool and he quietly gasps when the wet washcloth touches his skin. Ellen and Catherine work as quickly as they can, taking turns supporting Connor and bathing him until his upper body is clean. He is quiet and stoic about the process. It's obvious he isn't happy about having to let others see to his personal hygiene but he had already discovered how very useless he is at the moment.

Ellen climbs onto the other side of the bed and washes his back and shoulders. She quietly admires his muscular physique, feeling her face heating and turning crimson as she runs her hand and the cloth over his wet skin. It shines, dark and coppery in the light of the lanterns and the rising sun coming in from the windows. She tips Connor's head back and wets his crest of remaining hair, running her fingers through it and lamenting the loss of his characteristic little braid that used to hang beside his face. Catherine hands Ellen a towel and she uses it to dry his hair and the rest of him.

Catherine points to the laces of his pants.

"May I? We might as well get ya completely clean." Connor looks up at her, utterly embarrassed. Catherine crosses her arms and tsks at his discomfiture.

"Darlin, I've raised two boys. Three, if ya coun' me husband an' four if ya coun' Diana's. You ain' got nothin' I haven' seen before." Connor hangs his head and sighs. He reaches for his own laces and unties them slowly. Ellen rounds the bed to his side again and lifts the crumpled sheet that had once covered him. She drapes it over his legs, covering his hands and leaning close to bring the edges of it around his waist. He looks up at her, his eyes showing true gratitude from between the wet sections of hair that hang down from his head. Ellen smiles and takes his upper arm when he finishes untying his laces.

"Do you think you can stand up?" She asks him. He nods and brings his arm around her shoulders. Ellen moves in closer and positions herself so he can lean on her as Catherine takes a supportive position at his right shoulder. He holds the sheet low on his stomach with his right hand as Ellen and Catherine tug his pants down from his hips. He is clearly grateful to be seated again. Connor closes his eyes and just tries to keep himself steady while they wash his legs and feet.

"Alright, then, if ya can promise not t' fall on the floor, we'll jus step out an' look for some linens and some clean clothes for ya. That way ya can have some privacy for a minute." Catherine bustles out and Ellen rinses a cloth in the basin for Connor and hands it to him. He takes it slowly.

"I'll be right outside the door if you need anything. I don't imagine Catherine will be gone long so you'd best be done before she comes back or she'll do it for you." Ellen can't help smiling at the look of stunned horror that crosses Connor's face yet again. She shuts the door most of the way and stands outside, listening for any sounds of Connor falling onto the floor or bed. As Catherine comes down the stairs a few minutes later, Ellen quietly knocks on the door.

"Come in." Connor calls to her. He is self consciously pulling the sheet over his legs and it seems as if he is too embarrassed to look at her. Catherine makes him stand twice more. The first time is to scrub the backs of his legs and buttocks, giving him a saucy smack just because she can.

"Catherine! Do you have to make it worse for him? He isn't one of your boys misbehaving!"

"No, but arses don' stay this nice forever!" Ellen gives Connor a sympathetic look and he shakes his head with his eyes closed.

The second and final time he has to stand is when they help him into a clean pair of loose fitting pants and swap the sheets out. Connor is visibly exhausted by all the movement and when the two women help him down to rest he almost immediately closes his eyes. They tuck him in and Catherine gathers the linens that need washing up and takes them outside. Ellen kneels beside his bed and lifts the rope attached to his right wrist in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Connor, but I have to retie these… It's for your own safety." Connor places his hand on her wrist and stops her.

"No. It is for your safety. Thank you." Ellen smiles and ties the ropes so he can have both his hands by his sides and can bend his knees a little. He watches her silently as she makes her way around the bed. She returns to his side and he turns his head to look at her. A section of his damp hair is resting over his cheek so she reaches up and smoothes it back.

"You should rest. I can see how tired we made you."

"I am tired but I feel much better now that I am clean. Be honest with me… do I smell bad?" Ellen laughs and shakes her head at his genuine concern.

"No. You smell good now."

"Thank you." Ellen pats his chest.

"You're welcome. Now rest." She starts to get up.

"You work hard to help people, Ellen." His comment could have sounded innocent if not for what she had said to him when she thought he was sleeping. She drops down beside him again and looks at him sharply, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. Connor lifts his hand from the bed and touches her fingers on her arm, looking directly into her eyes. He bends his elbow further and barely grazes her chin with his fingertips before the rope stops him. Ellen takes his hand in both of hers and bends her head so her lips are pressed against the backs of his fingers. He closes his eyes. It doesn't take long for Connor's breathing to even out into the deeper respiration of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Connor's head turns to the right on the pillow as Ellen tucks his hand under the blanket and stands up to leave. He breathes deeply through his slightly parted lips in restful sleep, exhausted from the efforts of standing up for that short amount of time. Ellen watches his chest rise and fall. At least he is healing now. It's a small comfort, knowing this, for he has become a vulnerable man in the interim, no longer able to rely on his strength the way he has for so long. Everyone in Davenport has become his protectors, at last able to return to him, in part, the many favors he has done for them all.

His damp hair lies on the pillow along the top of his head. It isn't held back at all and it is pushed upward slightly, giving him a wild appearance despite his relaxed features and the long, dark lashes of his closed eyelids. Ellen smiles down at him and bends to kiss Connor's cheek just beside the corner of his mouth before she leaves the room.

Outside, Catherine is kneeling at a wash basin scrubbing the bed linens and the cloths they had used to bathe Connor on a washboard, dunking them into the soapy water and scrubbing them again. Ellen joins her, running clean items through the wringer and rinsing them in another basin of fresh water before hanging each item to dry on a wooden rack set in the sun.

"He's asleep now."

"Aye, we 'bout wore him out, didn' we?" she says with a chuckle before her tone changes to sassy admiration.

"He's a nicely buil' man, ain' he? They don' make 'em like that too often." Ellen shakes her head with a smile, remembering the smack Catherine gave Connor earlier. Catherine narrows her eyes at her from where she is kneeling and scrubbing a sheet on the washboard.

"Don' even try ta deny you were lookin', sweetheart. Ain' no woman in her right mind wouldn'ta taken a gander at that arse, given the chance!" Ellen laughs and glances over at Catherine.

"He's quite nice to look at, but he was terribly embarrassed that we were, so I feel unkind for taking amusement from it. He must have felt like a horse up for auction."

"Heh, well tha's a nice change, ain' it? 'Specially with tha pretty face a yers."

"Well, I haven't turned men's heads in some time, especially since I came here. I worry more about Maria. She's been wanting to take a trip to Boston again but I keep finding reasons not to."

"Why's tha'? Ya afraid the boys'll be lookin'? She's gotta find a man someday."

"No. She doesn't have to, Catherine. I'd rather have her stay here forever and be safe than end up like me… This is the happiest we've been and if I can keep her safe… innocent… just a little longer… I'll do anything to prolong it."

"Oh, darlin'. Every marriage will have its troubles, even with tha best of men. My Godfrey's a mess some days but 'e's a good man deep down, ya know?"

"He loves you and has a good heart. Not all men do. I only want the best for Maria."

"Of course ya do! Ya woudln' be a good mother if ya didn'! But yer gonna have ta let the girl fly one day," Catherine says as she hangs the last cloth on the rack and tips the wash basin over to dump out the dirty water. Ellen crosses one arm over her stomach and supports the elbow of the other as she nervously touches her bottom lip with her thumb.

"Yer thinkin' bout her, aren' ya? Go home, Ellen. I think I can 'andle a sleepin' man alrigh' til Prudence gets here."

Ellen takes Catherine's advice and walks slowly back home, only to find Maria excitedly running out to meet her on the road.

"How is he, mother? Did you talk to him? Did you tell him how you feel?" Ellen is nearly bowled over by her daughter's questions.

"Slow down, dear! One question at a time! Connor's doing much better today. He was able to stand for a short time, even. He's resting well now."

"But did you _tell_ him?" Ellen smiles at her daughter's eager need to know such gossip. It's an innocent interest, though, and if she has her daughter by her side in this, all the better.

"I did." She keeps silent, anticipating Maria's reaction.

"And? Mother!" She grabs Ellen's hand with both of hers and tugs on it.

"Oh, alright. He was sleeping when I took his hand and spoke my heart to him. I thought he hadn't heard but after Catherine left to wash his clothes and the bed linens, he indicated that he had." Maria's eyes are wide and she opens her mouth in an excited smile.

"Does he feel the same?" Ellen remembers his simple statement that had shown her he had heard her heartfelt confession.

"I think… there may be some affection for me on his part."

"Oh, Mother that's wonderful!" Maria clasps her hands in front of her chest and positively beams with radiance and happiness, bouncing on her toes and dancing around with an imaginary partner. Before she can dance out of earshot, Ellen sternly addresses her.

"This is not to become the gossip of the town, Maria. Keep this between us until things settle down and he's back on his feet. It won't do to have a scandal here."

"Yes, Mother." Maria's elation is somewhat subdued but she flashes another grin as she pirouettes away towards the house, singing a sweet song.

They do their daily chores together, baking bread, feeding the chickens and cleaning their coop, gathering eggs and finishing up several items that needed mending for Norris. He is forever tearing his clothes in the mine and Myriam is too busy supplying the Mile's End with fresh game to spend time with endless repairs. Ellen is paid for her work with game and the arrangement keeps her larder full and her hands busy.

By late afternoon, Ellen can no longer deter Maria's determination to visit with Connor. Though somewhat excited herself, she schools herself to calmness, taking her time folding the quilt she is currently working on and putting it away, cleaning her tea cup and tidying the sitting room until Maria is leaning on the door and dramatically crossing her arms.

Prudence is sitting in the kitchen with Hunter while Dr. White is packing up his things in his bag.

"Hello, Ellen! Maria!"

"Hello Dr. White. We've come to see Connor." Maria is immediately flustered at herself for stating the obvious but she hadn't expected to see so many people here. Prudence smiles at her and Hunter scrambles off of his mother's lap to run to her as fast as his little legs will carry him.

"You can go see him now. I'm done with my examination." Maria sets Hunter down and turns him so he can walk back to his mother. She nearly knocks Ellen over as she goes to the door of Connor's room. She knocks and peeks her head in. Connor calls to her.

"You may come in, Maria." She smiles and goes to the bed while Ellen leans against the frame of the door. Connor is sitting up and wearing a loose fitting white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His crest of hair is tied back with his usual red tie. Ellen still hasn't gotten used to seeing so much of his scalp but at least he's keeping it neat. She's happy to note that the ropes are gone from the bed and Connor appears much more comfortable for the lack of them.

Maria sits on the side of the bed like a proper lady but when Connor's eyes sparkle with the beginnings of a smile, she flies forward and takes him in a hug. Ellen can see a brief grimace of pain cross his face but he wraps his arms around her anyway.

"I'm so glad you're alright! You weren't yourself yesterday and I was… I was afraid!" Connor's eyebrows move closer together with concern and he glances over at Ellen in the doorway. She nods in conformation and he gently moves Maria back from him.

"I am sorry I frightened you. I am better now. You do not need to be afraid of me."

"I know." Maria lowers her eyes and fidgets with the skirt of her dress. She scoots away from Connor and he rests his left hand lightly over his stomach and his right on the bed. Prudence is standing next to Ellen in the doorway holding Hunter's hand. Maria casts a glance over in her direction and she smiles.

"I was planning on taking Hunter to feed the pigs today so we need to get going if we are to do it before dark. Take care, Connor. I'm glad to see you doing so well."

"Thank you for coming to see me. I would stand…"

"Nonsense. You stay right there in bed where you belong!" Prudence shakes her head brusquely as she orders him. Maria stands and clutches at the sides of her skirts, the beginnings of a blush starting on her cheeks.

"I believe I would like to help you, Prudence." Prudence raises an eyebrow but then quickly lowers it.

"Of course, child. You may accompany us." Maria smiles at Connor and then follows Prudence out the front door. Ellen closes it behind them and then steps back into Connor's room only to sit awkwardly in the chair against the wall. She hasn't felt so uncomfortable in her own skin in quite some time. The room is silent and Ellen has a hard time meeting Connor's eyes. Whenever she glances up at him he is patiently watching her and a tension builds up in her stomach the longer they stay like this. She gathers her resolve and looks up at him.

"I'm sorry for…"

"You do not…" They both speak at once and then proceed to awkwardly do it again as each of them tries to give the opportunity to express their thoughts first to the other. Connor raises his right hand out toward her with this palm upwards and Ellen lowers her eyes to her clasped hands in her lap.

"Please, Ellen. Speak." Ellen looks up at him and takes a deep breath. He nods at her and his lips, though relaxed, press together into a slightly flattened smile as he does. It makes him appear just as nervous as she feels. She hasn't felt so like an awkward girl in almost two decades.

"I… I apologize for speaking such… brazen words to you earlier. It was very uncouth and hope you don't think any less of me for it. I was greatly affected by your grave condition and I feared for your life. I couldn't bear for you... to… pass from this earth… without knowing the truth." There. She's said it. Her stomach wants to empty itself but that would only make the situation a thousand times more awkward than it already is. Connor rests his hands on his stomach.

"On the contrary, Ellen. I respect your honesty. It is a breath of freshness in a world where men and women prefer to hide their truest nature from each other." Ellen lowers her face again at his compliment yet he continues.

"It is the women of my people who commonly speak up first about interest in a man." Ellen stares even harder at her hands and takes in a quick breath. She is far too embarrassed to say anything in response.

"Ellen." She looks up at Connor and he extends his hand toward her with an inviting gesture.

"Come here." He pats the bed beside his hip. Ellen stands and crosses to him, squeezing her hands tightly in front of herself until he reaches up toward her. She takes his offered hand and he guides her down to sit beside him. Ellen looks at him for a long time without saying anything and then drops her eyes to his hand holding hers. His fingers are long; they bend slightly around her hand and his thumb almost crosses over the entire back of it. The way he holds her hand is light and gentle despite the strength she knows is in his grip. His dark skin is still somewhat reddened where the ropes had dug into him and she traces the fading lines with a fingertip of her left hand, turning his arm with her right hand. Connor releases his hold on her as if he had possibly offended her by keeping her hand in his for so long.

Gathering her courage, she looks up at him and scrutinizes his face. Before she can stop herself, she reaches up with her right hand and briefly touches the side of his shaved head where his braid used to be.

"Why did you do this?"

"It is customary among my people when we go to war."

"Did you win? Despite this?" Ellen gestures to his injury with a sweeping motion of her hand. Connor quietly looks at his feet under the blankets in consideration.

"I am unsure. It depends on how one looks at it. In some ways, I did. In others, I did not." He lifts his eyes to the picture of Achilles and his family hanging on the wall. His eyes are saddened.

"Was it worth the sacrifice? Maybe that's a better question." Connor sighs and looks into Ellen's eyes.

"I wish I could answer 'Yes,' with confidence. I am torn. I want to fight against all injustice… but always there will be those who seek to undo whatever I accomplish. Too many, I fear."

"There are those who can fight with you. We all do. You aren't alone!"

"I know. Everyone here has contributed in many ways, including you. Especially you, Ellen. Your flags fly high and remind us what we fight for. But I cannot ask anyone to take the risks I do. There are things I can only do alone."

"No one would ever refuse you. You've done so much for us!"

"I cannot ask for more than what has been done in return already. I will not put anyone at risk or compel those who came here looking for a simpler way of life to leave all of it behind for the sake of my choices. It is safer for them here."

"What good is safety when only one person puts himself in far more danger to protect his home because he refuses help? Let us help you. Let us in, Connor." Ellen raises both of her hands to his face and turns it to her. She can feel her unshed tears burning in her eyes for the struggle that lives in Connor's heart. The broken look of utter sadness in his expression nearly crushes hers.

"Is this to be my home? I struggle to see it as such. It is empty here for me… a reminder of all I have lost." Ellen's lips part at the sorrow in his voice and she takes a hand from his face and brings it over her heart.

"Oh Connor, no." she whispers, shaking her head. A tear runs down her cheek and Connor reaches up and wipes it away.

"Do not weep for me. I have chosen this life."

"But it doesn't have to be so… empty… for you." Connor wipes another tear that falls.

"I have not the time to give to a woman, a wife, no matter how much I wish that were not the case… It would be unfair to you and Maria." Ellen's breath catches and she looks away. So he does feel the same.

"Ellen." Connor says softly. He waits until she heaves a shaking sigh and turns to face him again with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"I would not wish to burden you with my many absences. That would be unkind and disrespectful to you. You both deserve better."

"It would be enough for me. It would be different!" He shakes his head slowly.

"How could it be any different?"

"Because when you're here… we'd be _together_. We'd be a family. And we'd always be with you when you're away. Here." Ellen lays her left hand on his chest over his heart.

Something changes in his face and he covers her hand with his. His eyes become closed off to his heart and a flatness creeps into his voice. He seems to speak into the air instead of to her.

"I should never have shown you how I feel. It was a mistake made in my weakness. I am sorry, Ellen." He turns then and looks into her eyes.

"Forgive me. There are things I yet need to do and they will take me places far from here." Ellen lowers her head and heaves a sigh. She straightens her shoulders and hardens her will. No matter what he needs to do, he will be back. He always comes back. Maybe he just needs more time.

"Then do what you must. I'll be here."

Connor leaves only days later, taking a small amount of supplies and his horse. No one is happy about his decision to leave. Dr. White pushes his glasses up on his nose and frowns as Connor gets onto his horse. He hides his discomfort well but his very movements betray it clearly. His only defender is Ellen, who calmly rests her hand on Dr. white's shoulder.

"Let him go. No amount of argument will change his mind." Connor looks down at her from his horse and a momentary look of shocked sadness at her support crosses his face before he urges his horse to a fast walk and follows the wide path through the village and out of sight.

Ellen had only come by the manor once after he had turned her love away. The nearness of him was too hurtful for her and she had had to calm herself in her room in the evening when she had broken the news to Maria. Her daughter was unable to understand why, when he had admitted caring for her, he would refuse to welcome her love. Ellen tried to explain but it had ended up sounding more like she was convincing herself than validating his reasons. Maria had come to her in the night and crawled into the bed like she used to when they had first moved to this place. Besieged by their sadness and shattered hopes, they took comfort in each other's presence. At least they still had each other.

Life continues on in Davenport, just as it always has. Connor's comings and goings were seldom a cause for major disruption in the past and though his rash departure was the subject of much talk for several days, it, too, eventually fades into only a passing comment on his well being. Days turn into a week and one week into two. To Ellen, the events of Connor's notable return begin to feel like some strange dream, and any moment she expects to see him walking down to the bay to harass Mr. Faulkner over some minor detail on the _Aquila_ or pass by on the roads on one of his many trips to Boston. He doesn't, of course, and often Ellen's thoughts turn to grim imaginings of Connor being unable to defend himself properly from some wild animal or another because of his injury and he is long dead in the forest somewhere, never to return to them.

It is in the midst of one of Ellen's darker moods almost a month after Connor left, when she catches sight of yet another farm animal assaulting her vegetable garden. She resolves that moment that she won't waste another day in asking Warren to build a fence for her. She is sick and tired of watching her precious produce be consumed by passing cows and sheep. This time it's a horse. Ellen grabs her broom and dashes outside. The garden is down the hill a bit in the sunniest section of her property so she raises her arms over her head, waves the broom and shouts at it as she runs. When she gets near, he trots lazily away from her wild behavior and settles for some long grass instead. Ellen lowers the broom and walks closer to see who she needs to return the horse to.

He is a large horse that she has never seen before. He seems docile enough so she reaches up to grasp his bridle. The instant she does, the horse turns his head toward her and Ellen drops her broom. The portion of bridle that crosses over the top of the horse's long face bears intricate beading in blue and white diamonds with dots of red in the center. The only person who has ever possessed items with that design is Connor. Forgetting about protecting her vegetables and herbs, Ellen leads the horse by his reins as quickly as she can to the manor. All the convincing she had done over the long weeks he had been away simply fall from her as a desperate hope rises in its place. She throws the reins over a section of fence and hurries up to the front door.

Raising her hand to knock, she stops short of it when she notices that the door is ajar.

"Connor?" she calls. There is no answer but a faint scuffing sound reaches her ears. Emboldening herself, she pushes the door wide open. Connor is sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the staircase. The railing partially blocks her view of him but his left leg is out straight in front of him and his right foot is resting on the floor next to his left knee. Ellen slowly advances into the hallway, clenching her fists in apprehension at what kind of state she will find him in. Dirt is scattered over the hardwood floor and a shovel rests over Connor's legs. The tip of it is on the floor and the long wooden handle angles up to where he grasps the end of it in his right hand up by his bent knee. His left arm crosses over his stomach and his hand rests over where his injury is. He doesn't move at the opening of the door, nor does he turn his head to look at her when she kneels at his left side.

"Connor, are you hurt?" He stares ahead at the wall across the hall from where he sits. His voice is hollow.

"No."

"What happened?" He doesn't answer her for a long time. His lips separate and his face contorts into a painful grimace of sadness as he heaves several deep breaths. Ellen rests her right hand on his left shoulder and he finally chokes out an answer.

"They are gone."

"Who's gone?"

"My village. Everyone. They are all gone." He lowers his head and stares at the space between his legs on the floor.

"I have failed."

"Why do you say that?" He turns to look at her skirt where it had settled over his leg with pain in his eyes. He speaks aloud and his right hand becomes a fist on the handle of the shovel.

"I could not protect them! Everything I did… it was not enough." His voice then falls to a whisper once more as he continues.

"It will never be enough. Even the Spirits have abandoned me." Ellen takes the shovel from him and he loosens his grip on it to allow her to. She pushes it away so she can settle closer to him. Connor keeps his left arm and fist tightly pressed over his injury and Ellen covers his clenched hand with her palm.

"Are they… dead?" Connor shakes his head.

"No. Gone. They left the village because it was taken from them. Our land was stolen from us and sold! I fought to prevent it, I did all I was asked to do but I made too many mistakes… I trusted the wrong people." Ellen strokes her hand over his and he lifts his head to face her at last.

"We all err, Connor. The only thing we can do afterwards is learn from it and do our best to carry on no matter how awful it is to endure." Connor stares at her face, knowing that she, too, has endured the punishments of bad decisions. Though their lives had been completely different, and the challenges they have faced have not been similar in any way, the end result is the same. Bitterness, anger, pain, regret… In that, they are alike yet Ellen has managed to forge ahead and escape the ghosts of her past. If she can do it, maybe with time, he can too. But the weight of what Connor has lost is crushing. He was used like a tool by powerful beings he cannot hope to understand, and he did as they bade him, believing he could change the path of destruction foretold to him so many years ago. Not only has he disappointed himself, his bad decisions cost his people everything. It isn't only he who suffers as a result. The burden he bears is that of an entire nation.

A tremor runs through Connor's body under Ellen's hand and she raises her right hand from his shoulder and touches the side of his face. His eyes catch the light coming in from the open door and seem to glow in the semidarkness of the hallway. Had she really ever noticed what a unique color they are before now? They burn with his pain and anger but more than anything they are a bottomless well of despair. He breathes rapidly through his nose and his lips twitch from his repressed emotions. The only outlet for his pain seems to be his eyes and it's almost too agonizing to witness. Unable to bear seeing it any longer, Ellen offers the only comfort she can give, for with such a mighty pain as he has, words will surely fail. She leans close and touches her lips to his lightly.

Connor stops breathing until she takes her lips from his. To her relief and worry, his agonized eyes are closed but he has a deep furrow between his eyebrows. Another tremor takes over Connor's form and Ellen lifts her left hand from Connor's left arm and raises it to his right cheek. His jaw moves under her touch as he repetitively clenches his teeth. Her fingers slide down to the corded muscles of his neck, rigid with tension, and she lets them trace over the material of his jacket and down onto his shoulder. With firm pressure, she draws him closer to meet her lips and he again simply allows her to kiss him. Ellen is unsure whether she is affecting him at all; doubt and shame over her bold actions begin to clutch at her heart. She starts to pull away but Connor abruptly raises his right hand and captures her elbow. He drags his left arm off his stomach and out from between them only to bring it around her body and pull her tightly to his chest.

Ellen gasps both from the suddenness of his actions and the strength with which he had acted. They meet each other's eyes for an infinite moment, exchanging an incalculable understanding. Connor's pain is no less terrible to behold yet something else has blossomed in his gaze that almost resembles hope. Ellen leans into him and this time, their kiss is an act shared by them both. Connor is hungry for it. He is a man starved for affection and his need almost tears everything Ellen has to give out of her. She offers her love willingly yet it doesn't seem to be enough to fill the black void it falls into. She feels it in the way he grips her to his body and the racing of his heart against her breast. His lips are warm and soft as they drag on hers and he tastes of her with his tongue, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth. The sensation of it is heavenly and a small, needy sound escapes Ellen's throat. Connor's fingers twitch on her arm and against her shoulder: demanding, crushing and ever so gentle.

The tension in her own body comes to the fore and Ellen makes an effort to relax, curving herself downward, settling onto her left hip and conforming her shape to better fit against Connor. He slides his arm up higher on her back until his hand cups the back of her shoulder and he tightens his hold on her. At last their lips separate and they share a breathless minute. Ellen clutches at the leather strap that crosses Connor's chest. Under its thick and pliable width is a warmth that radiates into her fingers and she pulls herself up slightly by it. Connor turns into her embrace and Ellen rests her face against his neck and chest just below his face. Her body rises and falls with every one of his breaths. Neither one of them is willing to let the other go so they stay in their tense embrace as if frozen in time.

Ellen slides her fingers up the back of Connor's neck and onto his head, feeling the stubble of his hair that has begun to grow back in. She bends the tips of her fingers and rubs them over the soft, new growth and then down onto the skin of his neck. He lowers his face down and rests his lips on the top of her head, sighing into her hair as she kneads his knotted muscles.

Ellen has no idea how long they spend sitting that way but when the rapid beating of Connor's heart finally slows to a more normal pace, he does not give up his hold on her. When he finally moves, Ellen sits up with a start. She must have begun to drift off in his arms. Her hip aches from sitting in such a crooked fashion and it is a physical relief to turn herself and lean back against the wall of the staircase beside Connor. Almost on its own, her right hand slips into Connor's left and together they watch the shadows cross the floor and travel over their legs.


End file.
